


Frankly The Best

by asoftplacetoland



Category: Franklin (Cartoon), Schitt's Creek
Genre: Brewer Family Feels, Can You Believe There Is a Tag for Franklin, Childhood Memories, Cuddling & Snuggling, Family Bonding, Fluff, Humor, Husbands, In-Laws, Kissing, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Oh My God, Road Trips, Rose Family Feels, There's A Tag For That, child actor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25774333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asoftplacetoland/pseuds/asoftplacetoland
Summary: David and Patrick take a long weekend to visit Marcy and Clint and David learns something new about his husband's past.
Relationships: Clint Brewer/Marcy Brewer, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 34
Kudos: 141





	Frankly The Best

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really have an excuse for this one other than I laughed so hard thinking about it that I had to write it immediately and ignore my current long fic WIP until it was written. Such is life with some ideas! 
> 
> The premise is, of course, what if Patrick Brewer was the voice of everyone's favorite turtle and David never knew it until his MIL showed him the pictures? Just let it be known, I know nothing about the voice over industry or the production of cartoons or even Noah's own experience with voicing everyone's favorite turtle IRL. This was just something I wrote purely for my own amusement.
> 
> Title was begrudgingly chosen by a vote of 3-1 so I put the blame on my encouragers for the frankly terrible title. All secondhand embarrassment and editing mistakes, however, are my own. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

After the retail storm that was Valentine’s Day at the store, David and Patrick decided a long weekend spent with Clint and Marcy was just what they needed for a recharge. David was looking forward to restocking their freezer casserole stash courtesy of Marcy and Patrick and Clint had already gotten tickets to a hockey game for the Saturday afternoon of their stay. They’d arrived late on a Friday evening with just enough time for a midnight snack of Patrick’s favorite gingersnap cookies and chamomile tea before they had fallen into Patrick’s little childhood bed with barely enough waking sense to do more than wash their faces (Patrick) and do a pared down five step skin regimin (David). They traded a few lazy kisses as they always did before drifting into a fitful sleep amid the hockey posters and baseball trophies of Patrick’s youth.

When David woke the next day, Patrick was already off to the game with Clint, leaving a handwritten note about how they’d gotten an early start to stop for breakfast at a favorite diner of theirs on the way to the game and how he’d bring David back a pretzel from the concession stands. David smiled down at the little heart Patrick had drawn above the ‘i’ in his name, a little grateful Patrick wasn’t there to tease him about getting all emotional over his husband's handwriting. Again. David tucked the note into his wallet for safekeeping before he stumbled down the stairs to find Marcy in the kitchen already. The sweet smell of chocolate and butter clung to the air and the smile Marcy offered him somehow made him feel even happier than the thought of eating whatever chocolatey thing was bubbling away in the oven.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Marcy said cheerily and David accepted the large mug of coffee she pressed into his hands with as happy a smile he could manage pre-caffeine. Two sweeteners, skim milk, a drizzle of caramel syrup, and a sprinkle of cocoa powder, right? She asked and David stared at her in surprise. She patted him on the shoulder as she made the short trek across the kitchen to grab a worn pair of blue gingham patterned oven mitts off the counter.

“I’m starting to think I’m an open book meant to be read by the Brewers.” David teased as he took a sip of the sweet, rich coffee. Even though it was wasn't quite a macchiato, it was the best coffee David had enjoyed outside of his own home since he'd visited that fancy new coffee shop in Elm Glen with Patrick last month. Marcy further proved how correct his statement about the Brewers was a minute later by setting a tray of [chocolate walnut cinnamon rolls](https://www.thelittleepicurean.com/2015/02/chocolate-walnut-cinnamon-rolls.html) in front of him on the counter. 

They took their cinnamon rolls and coffee into the living room. David tokk what had become his official “spot” on the couch, tucking a cozy tan and white striped spotted throw Alexis had given Marcy at Christmas around him before setting his coffee and plate down on the side table. Marcy settled into her recliner on the other side and mirrored David’s actions before turning the television on to a cooking show. David had always felt so comfortable with Marcy. Much like her son, Marcy Brewer had a methodical way of doing things and she was constantly introducing David to the sort of domestic comforts he’d never considered trying in the past. Like, for example, the joys of drinking coffee and eating ultra-decadent cinnamon rolls in your pajamas in front of the television while a pretty young woman who lives on a farm teaches you how to make homemade pitas. The commercial breaks were full of questions about the store and the online book club they both joined together at the start of the new year and David's family and how the bathroom renovations were going at the cottage. About an hour in, a commercial with a family of CGI turtles advertising internet service came on and Marcy chuckled into her coffee.

“Oh boy, this commercial always reminds me of Patrick’s _Franklin_ years.” Huh? David fully turned from his spot on the couch to stare at her, one eyebrow raised.

“ _Franklin_ years?” He asked in a dubious voice and Marcy turned to look at him, a smile growing on her face. She held up a finger for him to stay put and then headed off in the direction of the hall closet. A few minutes later, she returned with a VHS tape and a little green leather-bound photo album entitled **_Franklin: 1997-2004_**.

“It’s easier if you see the pictures before you see the show.” Marcy said like that explained everything. David opened the album and it was full of pictures of young Patrick. David was already familiar with most of them from previous visits to the Brewers, much to Patrick’s chagrin. The first few were of a curly headed, chubby cheeked little Patrick with a huge set of headphones around his ears, speaking into the microphone in what looked like a recording booth. Tucked into a pocket on that page was a little folded name tag that said **Patrick Brewer, Franklin Turtle** in neat typed font with a faded red and white logo printed on either side of the words that looked vaguely familiar.

David turned the page and the next set of photos were clearly taken on the same day judging from the bright red red polo shirt and cargo shorts little Patrick was sporting and thank god he grew out of his cargo shorts phase. Little Patrick was proudly holding up a piece of paper for the camera, flanked by a couple of adults in late 90s business attire on either side of him who all looked very pleased. Patrick himself was grinning wide eyed and excited straight into the camera and David could see the paper he was holding was some sort of contract. His heart clenched over the ecstatic look on little Patrick’s face and how familiar it was. How Patrick still smiles that wide whenever David does the most mundane things, like when David brings him a box of his favorite butter tarts from that little bakery he loves in Elmdale on the way back from a vendor visit or when David does the laundry even though it’s Patrick’s turn or when David always makes sure to swap with him on the floor when Ronnie comes in for her monthly round of sampling new products. David smiled down at the sweet younger version of his husband before flipping the page.

The next page was entirely devoted to a promotional shot of little Patrick standing back to back with a cardboard cutout of a large cartoon turtle in a baseball hat and he gasped in recognition.

“Oh my god, I do remember this show! Alexis used to watch it when she was a kid.” Marcy raised an eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“I’m guessing you didn’t?” She asked knowingly and David waved his hand in dismissal.

“Please, I’d already moved on to soap operas and daytime talk shows at that point, thank you very much.” Marcy pursed her lips slightly around her coffee mug and David knew she didn’t quite believe him. He didn’t want to mention that he would sometimes watch the show with Alexis because he secretly liked watching the little family of turtles eat meals together and go on family outings together and offer support and love to each other so freely. It was so different from his own upbringing as a child that he couldn’t help but wish he had that sort of closeness with his own family. He knew now he’d been lucky to get his wish years later in Schitt’s Creek, even if he didn’t feel that way in the beginning.

The next few pages contained only a handful of pictures as Patrick grew into a teenager, no longer quite as enthusiastic to be playing a turtle child at sixteen it would seem. The best pictures from those years were the ones of teenaged Patrick in a colorful daycare classroom, surrounded by small children, reading to them from a Franklin picture book and making a series of silly, animated faces that no doubt the children loved. David loved all those silly faces too and he was definitely asking for a copy of those pictures for their picture wall at home. The album ended abruptly with a final picture of Patrick, clearly in his early twenties now, standing next to—

“Oh my god, is that his car?” David gasped, taking in the familiar silver car with another giddy feeling of recognition.

“Yes, that was his first big purchase with his _Franklin_ money, other than paying for his schooling of course. He actually refused to touch it until he’d gotten his first job out of university, but he did move it over to a high interest savings account when he turned eighteen. Our Patrick has always been good with money.” Marcy said with a fond smile. David ran his fingers over the picture, tapping his fingers over Patrick’s car…which was now, really, _their_ car.

“That part doesn’t surprise me, but do you think I can convince him to trade this death trap in already? I fear for my life every time I get into the passenger seat.” David said with a grimace and Marcy laughed as she pushed the VHS into the machine.

From the moment the theme song came on, David was gripped with both nostalgia and a feeling of deep discomfort as the sound of ten-year-old Patrick filled the living room. The show itself was just as cute and homey as he remembered, and he found himself comparing Patrick’s mannerisms now with the childish giggles and tantrums of his cartoon character counterpart. He was absolutely going to need to get Patrick to try and replicate that laugh, just once, for his own amusement. He turned to Marcy, who was already watching him with an fond expression on her face.

“So, this _Franklin_ job was like a one and done thing, right? I don’t have to worry about him popping up in a Degrassi re-run or a creepy made for TV movie or anything or…” David trailed off with a slight grimace and Marcy laughed again.

“That’s right. Patrick liked doing _Franklin_ because he didn’t have to get in front of the camera. He’s definitely more of a stage actor than a screen actor but of course you know about his theater credits.” David nodded, finishing off the rest of his coffee while Franklin started to sing on the screen and oh god, there was no way Patrick was getting away with not getting teased for this and for keeping it from him.

When Patrick and Clint returned later that evening, David wrapped his arms around Patrick’s waist and pulled him in slowly for a kiss. Right before their lips met, David started to sing, “Hey, it’s Franklin…”

The look of absolute horror on Patrick’s face appeared so quickly, David couldn’t stop laughing enough to properly kiss him. Patrick wriggled out of David’s arms while David doubled over in laughter and glared toward the kitchen where his parents were putting the finishing touches on dinner.

“Mom! You didn’t!” Patrick wailed in distress.

“Honestly, Patrick, it’s not that big of deal. It’s cute!” Marcy called from the kitchen and Patrick glared at his husband, who was still working through silent fits laughter.

“Keep laughing but that cartoon turtle bought me my car and paid for my degree, both of which brought me to you.” Patrick snapped and David’s laughter quickly tapered off because _oh_. When put that plainly, David couldn’t help but be immensely grateful for Patrick’s brief stint as a child voice over actor. Even still, he wasn’t quite ready to give up on teasing Patrick just yet. Patrick pouted at him even as David looped his arms around Patrick’s neck and kissed him properly on the lips.

“My apologies, Mr. Turtle.” He breathed when he pulled back and Patrick snorted.

“David, please, Mr. Turtle is my father.” Patrick said and David laughed lightly as he leaned in for another kiss before they made their way into the kitchen for dinner.

David had nearly forgotten about the whole _Franklin_ thing until later that night. They curled up together in the Patrick’s old bedroom like they always did at home. David pillowed his head on Patrick’s chest and listened to his heartbeat while Patrick told him about his real first job as a voice over actor and how he’d eventually applied to work at the local Rose Video as a teenager in order to diversify his resume and have a job his friends wouldn’t make fun of him for. Before David could even ask what happened to his savings account, Patrick admitted that he’d used the rest of the money from his savings to pay for David’s engagement rings.

After that admission, David didn't have the heart to tease Patrick for his brief stint as a turtle ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Receiving comments and kudos is my love language.


End file.
